Chapter 353: 353. Pushing It

Leaving the sword’s realm wasn’t immediate. Following Nil’s advice, Dallion spent half a day in a room, picturing the real world at the exact moment he had left. Only after that did he exit the realm. The shock was noticeably less, although Dallion still required a few seconds of adjustment. That done, he quickly left the room and returned to the basement for his training. However, how could one train after learning so much?

For hours Dallion remained sitting in the empty room, staring at the training item without the will to go inside. Now and again, he’d stand up and pace around before sitting back down.

After spending hours both in the realm and in the real world procrastinating, Dallion finally got a sarcastic nudge from Nil, putting things pack in perspective. With the next arena fight hours away, it was best to take Eury’s advice and increase his level once more. Before that, though, there was something else Dallion wanted to try out.

PERSONAL AWAKENING

Things were considerably livelier once Dallion returned to his realm. The starting room was full of echoes and familiars. To no surprise, the dryad wasn’t there.

“Where’s Vihrogon?” Dallion asked.

“He’s locked himself in his domain, contemplating the past,” Gleam fluttered. “Now you see why I dislike dryads? They think it’s their role to tame the wilderness. At least everyone else knows better.”

“You know I might become a hunter one day?” Dallion asked, more in jest than anything else. 

“You’re different. For one thing you’re a dope now.”

Hearing her use the word was unusual, to say the least. Clearly, Dallion’s personality was starting to affect the shardfly.

“The Green path? Seriously? It’ll be amusing seeing a hunter with that.”

“You’re saying it’s impossible?”

“Not impossible. I’ve seen empath hunters, and they’re the scariest of the bunch. It’s rare, though. Most of them are just assistants, carrying stuff, cooking, cleaning…”

That sounded remarkably like being a packrat. Of course, being a packrat for hunters was very different from carrying items in awakened realms. Given Dallion’s promise to the Green Moon, at some point he was going to find out exactly what it was like the hard way.

After a bit more chit chat, Dallion went to his forging room. There he summoned his sky silver hammer and an ingot of the same material. It was time to see whether he’d be able to forge his first special metal item.

Just as he was about to start, Nil walked into the room. The old echo remained silent, but it was clear that he didn’t want to miss witnessing Dallion’s progress. As the closest thing to Dallion’s mentor, he had every right.

Checking on me, old man? Dallion smiled internally. Dagger, he thought.

Hundreds of markers appeared on the ingot of sky silver as it lay on the anvil. At first, they were as incomprehensible as always. Through sheer stubbornness, Dallion had managed to decipher the first forty or so. This time, he wasn’t going to resort to trial and error. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on the markers.

At first, little changed. Some of the markers became slightly clearer, although still merged with the rest. Pressure appeared in Dallion’s temples and continued growing. At the point of pain, the markers finally started moving. It was as if Dallion was zooming in on them. Bit by bit, layers became visible, moving further and further apart. After what felt like minutes, Dallion was able to see all the distinct steps the markers illustrated. It was all jumbled, but at least it was all there. Half an hour later, the instructions were clear enough for him to start working.

Handling the material itself turned out to be no different than any other metal. As long as Dallion managed to strike with the correct amount of force at the correct angle, part of the ingot folded in the desired fashion. An endless series of folds and turns followed as Dallion went on to create the most intricately complicated origami he’d seen in his life. Over a dozen times he messed up, though thankfully using combat splitting had become second nature to him, so no permanent damage had been done. However, the pain in his eyes and head kept growing.

Three quarters in, Dallion had to recite the names of the Moons non-stop, only to ignore the pain. Drops of sweat trickled from his forehead. The closer he got to completing the dagger, the more it was looking like he wouldn’t make it.

One strike at a time, Dallion kept telling himself. And yet, the time between strikes became longer and longer. By the time there were ten left, Dallion had to spend minutes between strikes only to keep his composure. Every neuron screamed for him to relax and finish the final steps using normal vision. Sadly, that wasn’t an option. No only did he need the training, but the last few steps of the forging process, while few, remained closely stacked together.

By the time Dallion was down to three markers, he felt as if he’d faint. The whole room was twisting and turning. The light was becoming dimmer and dimmer, nearly breaking his concentration. At this point, Dallion no longer had the mental energy to maintain his splitting instances. If he messed up now, there was no way to undo things.

Two markers. Dallion was just one step away from success. His stomach started rebelling, wanting to eject all its contents on the anvil, possibly putting an end to this torture.

One marker!

Holding his breath, Dallion performed the final strike. This was the point at which his senses deserted him. Dim turned to dark, as all sensation disappeared. The next thing Dallion knew, he was sitting on a throne of wood in a vast garden.

Where am I? Dallion looked up. A ceiling of leaves and branches covered a large part of the sky, only leaving a giant Green Moon to be seen.

“You didn’t ask about the Eighth Moon,” a voice next to Dallion said.

Looking to his right, Dallion saw that a new throne had emerged, one even larger than his own. As expected, the throne was occupied by none other than the Green Moon in his standard “divine” appearance of a ranger.

“The Moon Cleric isn’t subject to limitations, so he would have told you.”

“It must have skipped my mind,” Dallion replied honestly. “Will you be okay if I ask him next time?”

“Not really.”

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“Then I won’t.” For some reason, Dallion felt unusually agreeable.

“You will,” the Green Moon sighed. “That’s why I’ll tell you. There is no Eighth Moon. It’s a metaphor for something else.”

“What?”

“That you’ll have to find out on your own. If you’re ever able to. The cleric in the sword couldn’t. In fact, no awakened ever has. Do you think you’ll be the first?”

Dallion wanted to respond with maybe, but his mouth refused to utter the word. Just as he was about to try again, the branches above him moved aside. The floor melted down, transforming into the peak of a mountain. All seven Moons spun around, each taking the form of a sphere. Some felt so close that Dallion reached out to try and touch them.

“They’re watching you, you know,” the Green Moon whispered. “But you’re mine.”

“What about the Star?” Dallion asked. “Was he a Moon?”

Reality froze. The Moons started pulsing, some slowly, others rapidly to the point that it seemed they were flickering.

“The Star was never a Moon,” a new voice said firmly. “The Star is a skill.”

As Dallion watched in amazement, cracks emerged on all of the Moons. Small at first, they quickly grew to the point that shards started crumbling off the spheres.

“You’ve come a long way, Dallion, but so had your grandfather,” the voice continued. “From here on, each step forward might see you stumble and fall. You’ll need to be careful.”

A sudden wave of fear swept through Dallion, allowing him to partially snap out of the dream. He was still there, but now conscious of the fact.

“What can you tell me about my grandfather?” Dallion shouted, standing up from his throne.

“Everything and nothing,” the voice replied. “He created Star spawn to win a war, but that wasn’t what earned him his punishment. He was betrayed, as were all his companions, for a single sin.”

Seven beans of light focused on Dallion, each coming from the quickly disintegrating Moons. Within the light a medallion emerged shaped like a perfect hex. Using his forging skills, Dallion could tell it was made of pure sky silver. There were seven holes on it—one in the center and one at each of the six edges.

“This will protect you. From here on it’s up to you to see it completed.”

Dallion took the emblem from the air. It felt pleasantly warm.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s an emblem. Keep it safe.”

“What am I supposed to—"

The scene disappeared. The next thing that Dallion was able to see was the floor of his forge floating in front of his face.

What the hell? Dallion tried to stand up. The pain in his eyes and head returned, striking him like a sledgehammer.

“Finally awake,” Nil’s familiar voice said, drenched with disapproval. Dallion tried to look up in the direction of the voice, but found that he couldn’t even do that. A moment later, his entire body moved upright, turning in the direction of the echo.

“Lux?” Dallion asked. Now that his senses were slowly returning, he could feel the firebird’s flame around him, just as he could sense the familiar’s concern.

“Do you know the last thing a person must do before heading off to level up, dear boy?” Nil crossed his arms. “Not faint over an anvil while swinging a hammer. Granted, this is an awakened realm, but magic metals could occasionally cause permanent effects. In your case, you could have smashed your hand, which would have impeded your grip in the real world. Good thing that you failed even at that.”

“My hand?” Dallion asked. Right! Before all this weird dream scene happened, he had been forging a dagger. “Lux turn me towards the anvil.”

The firebird complied. The anvil was where Dallion remembered it to be. The sky silver hammer lay a few feet away on the ground. Most likely Dallionhad fainted due to pain and exhaustion caused by his attempt to complete the forging process. The lack of items suggested that he had failed. At the same time, Dallion felt that his forging skills had improved.

“Looking for this?” Nil raised a hex-shaped emblem. “That last hit of yours really was something. I’ve never seen an entire dagger flattened with a single blow. Still, the Moons must have been on your side, for you managed to actually create something despite your mess-up.”

“Lucky me,” Dallion muttered. So, the dream hadn’t been a dream, but rather a vision of sorts, or better yet—a dream realm in the domain of the Moons. Similar to the tales of Greek and Roman deities back on earth, they seemed to enjoy messing in the lives of mortals, as long as the mortals had something interesting to offer.

“Whatever the case, you won’t be having this until you get some proper rest,” the echo hid the emblem behind his back. “And by proper, I mean you’ll spend a few days here resting and sleeping. No leveling, forging, or training. The only thing you’re allowed to do is resting and reading.”

“And if I refuse?” Dallion asked. “I’m weak now, but I should be alright in an hour or two.”

“Oh, you can refuse at any point, dear boy. However, let me ask you this: who wins if you enter the arena half-asleep? Or better yet, how far are you willing to go to become weaker? As things stand now, you’ve only peeked at things to come, and you’ll continue only peeking for quite a few levels yet. As reckless as you are, even you know you need guidance from time to time. You can always choose to reject it, but can you afford to?”

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